


The First Rule of Drunken Hi-Jinks

by credoimprobus



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Drunken Makeouts, F/F, Femslash, Friends With Benefits, Intoxication, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 07:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/credoimprobus/pseuds/credoimprobus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bo and Kenzi keep falling into booze cabinet-fuelled makeout sessions, and completely fail to talk about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Rule of Drunken Hi-Jinks

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XIV, prompt: drunk

It happens, every now and then, that they end up making out with sloppy enthusiasm on the couch when they get drunk enough.

They get drunk _a lot_.

\---

They rarely talk about it; what happens at the bottom of a vodka (or wine, or tequila, or mysterious fae liquor) bottle stays at the bottom of the vodka bottle. Part of that, admittedly, is that not much memory of it survives till the morning, most times. Kenzi only remembers it at all after the first time because she wakes up with Bo still passed out on the couch with her, and the feel of Bo snoring softly through her nose against her shoulder, the warm weight of Bo's arm slung across her chest, triggers a foggy memory of some very wet kissing and a hand in her bra. She's honestly not even sure she isn't imagining it, so she pokes Bo in the shoulder until Bo wakes up with a snort.

"Hey, did we accidentally fuck last night?" Kenzi asks, trying not to sound as weird as she feels at the very possibility. Bo blinks groggily at her and then scrunches up her brows in a comical show of concentration, and Kenzi has to resist the temptation to poke a finger at the bumpy furrow.

"I don't think so?" Bo finally says, the words a bit garbled because half her mouth is still pressed into Kenzi's shoulder. "I don't feel like I've just had sex, anyway."

Kenzi figures a succubus, if anyone, would be able to tell, so she's quite happy to take Bo's word for it. "I'm pretty sure something happened, though," she still insists, and gets a dismissive grumble in reply.

"Can we worry about it later? I do not want to be awake right now."

Not a sentiment Kenzi's going to argue with.

\---

The later never comes, of course, so by the time it happens again, they're already comfortably settled into the habit of Not Talking About It. Sometimes Kenzi wonders whether Bo remembers even the tiny, vague snatches that Kenzi does, because if she does, she is one major champ at acting as if it's nothing.

Kenzi's kind of relieved about that, because she has a hell of a time getting past the awkward, herself. She hates to think what the mornings after would be like if they were both suffering mini-freakouts.

\---

It's not always the couch they land on, although it gets a disproportionate share of the action just because they spend so much time on it anyway. Kenzi has bruises for days the time Bo pushes her against the kitchen island and precariously climbs into her lap, neither of them having the coordination to balance on the narrow barstool under Kenzi's ass. That makeout ends abruptly in a crash to the floor, Kenzi laughing through a long string of "ow"s.

One or two times they end up on Bo's bed, and Kenzi has the impression that they keep on for much longer those times, though with the giant gaps in her memory, she can't be sure. She knows she wakes up with a sore jaw, and hopes to god it's just from prolonged kissing. (At least she doesn't wake up with pubes in her teeth: she takes this to be a good sign.)

Must be the relative comfort that does it. The couch isn't precisely spacious.

It's kind of extraordinary, when Kenzi really thinks about it, that they have yet (to Kenzi's conscious knowledge) to stumble across the line into actual sex, especially considering, well, _Bo_. Maybe it's because they only do this when they're completely shitfaced that they never make it past second base.

Hard to fuck when you're passing out before you can even get started.

\---

Then again, no streak goes unbroken forever.

\---

Kenzi doesn't know, and doesn't really want to think about, how many emptied bottles they've left in their wake tonight; there's two just on the coffee table, one of them knocked over from the game controller's flight after Kenzi died for the tenth time in an hour. (Her hand-eye and reaction time may not be up to their usual standards right now, she admits.) The looping menu music is a barely-noticed distraction in the background, most of Kenzi's attention caught up by Bo's hand shoved up the front of her shirt and Bo sucking on her tongue with drunken focus.

It's startling enough when Bo's hand stops kneading her boob and trails down to push into her pants instead that Kenzi feels almost shocked sober -- well, for a couple of seconds, anyway -- genuinely gobsmacked that it's happening. Kenzi wonders whether it's a sign that Bo isn't as drunk as she usually is, or _more_ drunk than she usually is, and then Bo slips two fingers between her lips with an ease that tells Kenzi she's way, way wetter than she'd realized she was, and speculating about Bo's state of intoxication isn't all that interesting anymore.

Bo betrays about as much manual finesse as Kenzi's gaming skills earlier did, but the v of Bo's fingers catching and stroking Kenzi's clit between them still feels amazing, and Kenzi surges up shamelessly into it. She's too drunk to even try to reign herself in, make it last; luckily, Bo doesn't seem to mind Kenzi humping her hand like a dog until she comes, barely a minute on.

Bo keeps stroking in languid lines along her cleft even after Kenzi comes down, Kenzi's sated moans swallowed into the kiss that Bo's kept going with impressive tenacity. Bo finally gives Kenzi her mouth back for a moment to lick at the corner of Kenzi's mouth, nip at her lower lip, and Kenzi takes the opportunity to pant out, "Fuck. I hope I remember this in the morning."

Bo laughs, and Kenzi's still trying to decide whether it means Bo hopes likewise or not when she drifts off into the sleep of the very sozzled.

\---

Kenzi wakes up to Bo's warm weight draped along her side, and a foggy memory of a really, really awesome orgasm.

She twists her neck to peer down at where Bo's head is resting on her arm, only to find Bo's eyes open and idly watching her. Bo smiles crookedly at her and raises herself up on her elbow, taking her weight off Kenzi.

"Mornin'," Kenzi says, clears her throat and tries again when it comes out as more of a croak than an actual word.

"I think it's closer to afternoon, to be honest," Bo quips, and Kenzi has the very powerful urge to accuse her of coming off too chipper and not hung over enough. She restrains herself, though; she doesn't want to derail the line of thought that's nagging uncomfortably at her.

Maybe it's time they started actually talking about this.

She draws a deep breath and hoists herself up enough to lean on her elbows. "So, um. Last night."

"Oh, god," Bo says, giving a chagrined laugh, and Kenzi feels something sink heavily inside her. Bo makes a sheepish face, and continues, "You'll have to promise me a do-over. That wasn't exactly me on my A-game."

Kenzi blinks, before the meaning of Bo's words sink in; and then the relief blooming through her spreads an irrepressible grin across her face. "I think I can get one hundred percent behind that idea."

Making out with Bo without having to deal with the murder of a hangover that usually goes with it: yeah, Kenzi has to say she likes the sound of that.


End file.
